Of Backrubs and Urns
by Spirit Dog
Summary: A day in the life of story set inbetween Redcliff and Haven. Rated T for mild nudity and girl talk.


Alistair looked around the tent and smiled softly to himself. Only a very short time ago it was 'her tent' rather than 'their tent' , but not even a week after she invited him to her tent for the first time, Reshalya had rather matter-of-factly suggested that it made no sense to have separate tents if they were only ever going to use one. It had shocked him a little that she was so matter of fact about such things, but at the same time, he loved her pragmatism. Sometimes she could be a bit too practical, but he didn't want to go down that line of thought tonight; however, he couldn't help letting his mind drift off to recent events as he started to strip off his armor for the evening. They needed to raise an army to defeat the Blight and so far they were having no luck at it. This is why they were on the road though to a small village in the middle of nowhere to try to find a missing monk, to with a great deal of luck find an object of legend.

He sighed to himself as he pulled off his boots, placing his armor and pack to the far left of the tent next to where she kept her gear. If nothing else, they had fallen fast into a familiar evening routine. It usually only varied if one of them had first watch for the night. He dug her hairbrush out of the bottom of her pack and carefully placed it on top where she could find it easily. Alistair then started to set up the two bed rolls side by side. This familiar routine gave him a sensation of sanctuary. He never could have imagined even a few weeks ago that he could feel so at home on the road, but he thought a lot of that was Reshalya's doing. The wood and the road had always been her home, and she quickly made it his as well. Alistair smiled to himself as he arranged the blankets just so. He had found some extra blankets and doubled them up since it was starting to get chilly as they moved up into the mountains.

Reshalya trudged into the tent. She looked worn and exhausted to Alistair, though he doubted the others had any idea how tired she really was. She slumped down onto the bedroll, an uncharacteristically noisy move for a woman who prided herself on moving with swift silence. Alistair watched her as she laid her bow and quiver next to her pack and then rubbed the back of her neck. He reached around her neck and helped her unhook her leather neckband. Alistair leaned forward and tried to kiss her only to hear her mumble, "not just now dear. I'm just so tired."

Alistair sat back and gave her a worried look and tried to hide his disappointment as he watched her start to go through her normal bed time routine more by rote then with thought. Reshalya took off her boots and socks and then her gloves, bracers and such on her arms being careful not to dislodge the thieves' tools hidden there. Her weary eyes did light up as she saw the hairbrush laying on top of her pack. She picked it up, tracing her fingers on the familiar grain of the wood. Alistair covered her small hands with one of his larger ones, with the other he reached forward and gently brushed her hair out of her eyes. He tried to emulate the soft, knowing smile that she used when he was upset and said, "I'm sorry my love. I… forget sometimes that since you're taking care of all of us that no one is taking care of you when you need it."

She took her hair down from its normal three tails, placing her hair ties and pins carefully on top of her pack, "It's not just that. You do take care of me, more then you know. It's just well…", she yanked the hairbrush through her now loose hair, "this just all feels so impossible sometimes. What if we don't find the urn? What then? Even with the other treaties, I'm just not sure if it'll be enough."

"We'll find it. The other option isn't something I want to think about, " Alistair thought to himself that for once it just did not seem fair to share his fears with her. He remembered something from an old conversation with Lelianna about how to deal with women and suddenly had an idea.

He took the hairbrush from her hands and carefully placed it on her pack next to the ironbark hairpins. Alistair kissed her gently on the forehead, "Try not to think about it tonight. Just rest. "

"Not sure I can."

Alistair moved to sit behind her and started rubbing her shoulders through her leather armor. Reshalya whimpered in approval as she let her whole body relax under his touch.

Alistair spoke softly, "Sometimes we all forget that you make all of the hard decisions and that things weigh more on you then the rest of us."

"Half the time I know what I'm doing, or at least feel like it, the other half I'm still just a scared kid far away from anything and everything she ever knew."

"You're doing a good job," Alistair chuckled to himself, "far better then I'd do at any rate."

"Yeah, yeah, I know the pants thing. But I like you without any pants!"

"Well I do have very nice calves if I say so myself."

Alistair fumbled with the straps holding her leather spaulders on. He kissed the back of her neck, "Dearest, this might be easier if you finished undressing and maybe lay down on your stomach."

He hoped to the Maker she couldn't tell how deeply he still blushed at any mention of her undressing, even if it was for more mundane reasons.

"mmm.. Alistair, that sounds wonderful."

Reshalya undressed, taking care to put her armor away properly for the night then crawled into her side of the bedrolls. Alistair tenderly covered her to the waist to make sure she wouldn't get a chill. He next to her on the other side of the bed roll and started to rub her back. Alistair's large callused hands moved slowly and gently over her small frame. Under his fingers he could feel the tension slowly melt away from her lean sinewy muscles. Between the curve of her back and the low, purr like whimpering sounds she made in response to his touch, she reminded him of a cat.

Alistair's fingers found their way up and down her spine, her shoulders, neck. As his hands ran softly down her sides easing the built up tension, his fingers crept slowly but surely around her, tenderly teasing the sides of her breasts.

"You really don't give up, do you?" she whispered as a small smile crept over her delicate elven features.

"Well that would make me a pretty useless Grey Warden now wouldn't it?" he smirked, " 'Will you end the Blight Mr. Archdemon?' , 'no?', oh well, best we go home then."

Reshalya chuckled softly.

Alistair returned to massaging her, defeated but happy. Gently, slowly, tenderly he massaged her sinewy, muscular, cat-like form until she was almost asleep. He learned and relearned every scar and mark from every battle and hunting trip she's ever had. His fingers stopped on matching small, round, barely visible scars on the sides of her ribs just under her arms. Alistair touched them carefully, feeling the odd shape. He spoke barely above a whisper, afraid to wake her if she had already dozed off, "What are these from? They feel old."

Reshalya mumbled into her pillow, "Spiders… a long time ago. It's why I don't like spiders very much."

Her lover bent over and kissed her between the shoulder blades, "Oh… So that's why you would rather face darkspawn then spiders."

"Mmmmhhhmmmm"

Alistair kissed the crook of her neck before returning to his tender ministrations. He slowly eased his already gentle to the most feather light of caresses until she fell asleep. The way she stretched in her sleep reinforced his image of her as a large cat. Alistair tucked her in all of the way, making sure she was covered with both the normal bedroll blankets as well as the extras.

He yawned and decided it was time to sleep for himself as well. Alistair hurriedly undressed in the growing chill of the evening and climbed into bed next to his lover. The movement was just enough to rouse her slightly. Reshalya cuddled up to his bare chest and half mumbled half whispered, "I love you lethallin."

Alistair put his arms around the elven woman cuddled up against him, "and I love you Reshalya."

She easily drifted back to the blackness of sleep in his arms. Alistair watched over her until sleep took him.

* * *

"Do you realize you've been grinning for hours now? " Morrigan shot an incredulous look at the elven woman walking beside her.

"Oh? Have I?"

"Yes, ever since you and that fool Alistair last exchanged glances in fact," Morrigan raised her hands in mock exasperation.

Reshalya gave Morrigan lopsided smile and chuckled. She blushed, "Well okay, perhaps I have been."

Morrigan chuckled, " 'Tis not perhaps, 'tis true. He must be pleasant enough in bed, for surely I cannot imagine anyone enduring his conversation."

Reshalya grinned even more broadly as they walked and talked, "Oh you have no idea."

She received an approving nod, "I see. Glad to hear it then. Tis a bit sickening to watch you two but I imagine it takes your mind off our situation. Have it your way."

The elf looked up at the sky, thinking briefly before speaking again, "His hands are astounding, but it's not just the sex. "

"Pray tell then."

Reshalya looked down demurely, "I know better to speak about love to you, but I do love him. That, however, isn't the point. Alistair seems to know what I need more and better than I do."

The witch made a sound of displeasure at the thought of love but a quizzical look to her companion about the rest of it, "Go on then."

"Last night I was really tired, and without any suggestion from me, he gave me the most amazing backrub. "

Morrigan chuckled, "So that is why you two were quieter than normal?"

Reshalya blushed deeply, "I didn't know anyone was paying that close attention."

Alistair walked behind the two women, far enough away that he would not interrupt but close enough that he could still hear the conversation. That women talked about sex so causally with each other boggled him, but he couldn't help but grin as even Morrigan could find nothing to criticize for once. He wondered if he should interrupt or if Morrigan would turn him into a toad for doing so. Toad, he decided, defiantly toad.

* * *

The air was starting to cool as evening came and they were still on the road with Reshalya and Morrigan in the lead, chatting and occasionally laughing more than Alistair found comfortable. Reshalya stopped walking so suddenly that Alistair almost ran into her. Morrigan shot him a dark look.

Reshalya kissed him gently, "Now that you're here, lethallin, I could you answer some questions."

"Umm… What about?" His worried glance shifted between the women. Maybe they had noticed him eavesdropping?

She started walking again, in the hopes that the rest of the party would not catch up, "I need to know more about this urn we're looking for. Human religion was not exactly part of my education."

Morrigan rolled her eyes, "You mean this fool of an errand we're on so that Alistair can save his father figure. Tis folly."

Reshalya gave her an exasperated sigh before Alistair could speak up, "It's not as though we have much of a choice. We need an army and Arl Eamon has one. I know that this is a long shot, but it's all we've got."

He looked at the elf, "So why didn't you want Lelianna to tell you about this? She seems far more interested in the Marker then I am."

"Lelianna is too preachy about the Maker for my tastes; I hardly believe in my own religion, let alone another's. You should know this by now."

"Right," Alistair walked in between the two women, and snaked an arm around the elf's waist, "just how little do you know?"

"To my people Andraste is a war hero, but we do not learn much about her besides her connection to Shartan. I never heard of the urn until we met the knights looking for it, nor do I know much of anything of human religion besides about Exalted Marches and mage-hunters."

Morrigan scoffed, "Even she does not like templars."

Reshalya sighed, "I like one of them just fine, thank you. Besides, Alistair and I had that discussion about the Chantry and the Dalish a long time ago."

Alistair gave his lover a tight squeeze before delving into a detailed explanation of the story of Andraste, her death, and of the urn. He did not finish until they started to set up camp. He included every detail and triviality possible to try to impress both of the women.

He was sitting by the camp fire after supper, lost in thought when Reshalya sat beside him and put her head on his shoulder, "You know lethallin, it would be sort of ironic if the people who find the Urn of Sacred Ashes is lead by a Dalish elf. "

Alistair laughed and kissed her on the top of the head, "I think I'd like to see that."


End file.
